


A Great Love

by polotiz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, F/F, Ficlet, Lexa deserves everything, Love, Love Wins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polotiz/pseuds/polotiz
Summary: When you were a goufa, barely at the height of your Nomon’s hipbone and fast enough to snatch the first sweet berries from spring, you would ask her about your Nontu, fascinated by the man whose ears and eyes matched yours but whose voice you could barely draw from the fragments of infant memory.She coloured your world with stories about a great love; one that transcended all things, that existed well beyond the days when bodies became dust.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	A Great Love

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in all sorts since the series finale of The 100. This clearly wanted to be written and so here it is. Not sure if it's closure? We'll call it closure. I just want them to be happy.

When you were a goufa, barely at the height of your Nomon’s hipbone and fast enough to snatch the first sweet berries from spring, you would ask her about your Nontu _,_ fascinated by the man whose ears and eyes matched yours but whose voice you could barely draw from the fragments of infant memory.

She coloured your world with stories about a great love; one that transcended all things, that existed well beyond the days when bodies became dust.

Eyes bright you remember asking if such a love would be reserved for you. She never answered, only mussed your hair, gripped your chin between her fingertips and lamented the dirt on your knees.

Only one day, it wasn’t dirt…

… and the life you knew… ended.

Tumbling head-long into a world of duty and a pre-ordained future, failure became death, leaving success the only alternative. Your days of snatching berries from an old worn tabletop were quickly replaced by ducking and weaving around swinging wooden sticks in the shape of the old sword you remember lying against the wall by the front door.

As time went on, the sticks became blades that pricked and sliced as readily as any carving knife, wielded by soldiers with more training than you had gained in years, and you came to learn you shared the fate of those who trained around you; wide-eyed youths who bled as you did, all but one of whom would die, when the time arose.

But you never forgot her your Nomon’s stories. And at night when the moon was low and the stars bright you would count each one, silently so as not to wake the youngons around you, imagining such a love dotted across the sky.

Several summers passed before you found curly hair and secret smiles, that blossomed into stolen kisses and laughter amongst tended fields. and somewhere between the hushed whispers chasing shadows in candlelight, you glanced to the stars and grinned at the secret they were sharing with you.

And even when the bell tolled, when your hands ran thick with the blood of your brethren, the sword swinging limply in your wrist as the carnage was laid out before you, it endured.

Through rights and sacrifice and ascension it endured and you took a moment to believe….

…until, imprisoned within wooden slats and old nails under a harvest moon, that love transformed into agony and anger.

And died.

…And in the shadow of that broken promise you evolved, strong and renewed; a vine woven around a broken part until it disappeared beneath the growth and left nothing to be seen other than the vessel you served to be. You killed to be.

_Jus drein, jus daun._

Until now….

Until now.

Because here _she_ stands, watching you.

She, who collided with your world in the same way her people collided with Earth. A fireball of unstoppable force, tipping your very existence on its axis with her fierce convictions and sharp tongue.

She who was unafraid to die, who demanded _more_ from you.

 _Of_ you.

…And was never unwilling to offer the same.

Even when you failed. When she failed.

Even when you found _yourself_ irreparably separate from the purpose you had chosen.

Who defended you when you felt indefensible. Unworthy. When your stubborn determination was the only force holding the beaten tatters of hope in place. And you realise even in this moment, how long it has been since you allowed words like ‘hope’ into your vocabulary.

Hope.

Love.

You do. You love her.

…because the gentleness of the whispered wind among the old trees on the outskirts of the capital, where solace would find you in rare moments, is nothing compared to the tiny exhale each time she kisses you.

…because you have commanded armies; sent hundreds to die in your name. You have borne the responsibility of thousands of lives, a civilisation brought to its knees by an unforgiving earth. Reluctant yet resolute you have stood before them, prepared to shoulder their burdens in the name of survival. And yet, you find no greater purpose than the promises you make against her cheek, as she comes undone in your arms.

…because of the way she curves around your body in the early dawn, gifting you the chance to return to the most basic parts of yourself, to a world where a small girl chasing berries off her Nomon’s table could grow into something other than what she did; and could even still.

She stands before you, having both broken your heart open and carried it like it was nothing at all; and when she looks at you, in her eyes you find the entire sky, in every shade.

Ferocious, fond and absolute she watches you, the hint of a smile on her lips and sunshine in her hair. And you…

You stand in awe before her.

Your restless soul, finally at peace.

And as she steps towards you, links your fingers together, tilts her head in silent question, you think of your Nomon’s story.

You smile.

\-----

_Lexa and Clarke: A great love; one that transcends all things, that will exist well beyond the days when their bodies became dust._

**Author's Note:**

> May we meet again


End file.
